Remember
by Fishie Custard
Summary: Remember you are always loved
1. Chapter 1

The days autopsies were filed away and molly eagerly awaited to leave the draft of the basement in Barts and return to her cozy flat. swinging her bag across her body, molly flipped off the lights and walked towards the door.

"you were wrong you know" molly jumped releasing a small squeak in surprise as she turned around to face her consulting detective. " you do count, you always have and I have always trusted you." the sadness in his eyes latched themselves on her heart, spreading an amount of dread that she only read about.

"what do you need?" slowly as if approaching a wild animal, molly stood before him ready to do what ever it took.

"If i was a fake, and everything you ever knew about me was false would you still love me? would you still help me?"

"what do you need?" she pleaded more desperately grabbing her hand he looked into her eyes.

"You, always you."

"You have always had me" Sherlock smirked in the most beautiful way, once again grabbing her heart.

"Molly, I think I am going to die-"

"NO, I wont let that happen Sherlock." Frustrated he continued

"I think I am going to die, but i want you to know that you are forgiven, always and completely forgiven, and I Lo…...care for you a great deal." she couldn't believe her ears, did he just almost say love?

"what..um..I love you to Sherlock i always have..but what do you mean your going to die… i don't understand." bringing her hand to his lips and yet again assaulting her heart.

"Just remember Molly Hooper, you are loved." and with that he left. she never though that it would be the last time she saw him.

He was gone. Molly vaguely remembered the day before he left. It seemed to stretch into a never-ending oblivion days turned in to never-ending months. Her fiends finally after three months convinced her to go out on a blind date. It's not that tom was a bad guy, it was the opposite. however it had only been two weeks and already she was sick of this Sherlock "look-alike" everything reminder her of HER consulting detective. he was in every laugh, smile, and thought. every kiss they shared felt like betrayal. in the end it became too much, and she left tom.

She visited his grave every so often, dropping off flowers and staying for a chat not that he could answer back, but still it was comforting. she visited john and Mrs Hudson every week which often lifted her spirits, it was when she was alone that the demons crashed in on her. images of Sherlock falling to his death, and his body smashed and bloodied begging for help. Molly was not allowed to do his autopsy, in fact they had rushed her out of the morgue the moments before they brought the body in.

It was a few weeks ago that Sherlock's name was cleared after news and proof came about that Richard Brooks was in fact James Moriarty that molly found a small flower upon her desk at home. It had been a long day and molly was grateful to finally be home, as she opened the door, Toby scurried up, rubbing his body across her legs. "yes hello love, are you hungry? I bet you are. Let me put my stuff down and i shall feed you." walking into her small living room molly flipped on the switch and was surprised to see a small red rose laying upon her desk. hesitantly she picked it up, reading the card.

**_Remember_**

**SH**


	2. Of course

**This is chapter is from Sherlock's point of view, I think i might switch back and forth between Sherloc and molly. Let me know what you all think. :)**

He was board, that was the best way to put it. He had only been back for around a weeks and already the thought of returning to real life scared him. he kept occupied by exploring Mycrofts mansion-which if he was to be blunt needed dusting- and solving level 2 cases which in all actuality was no where near as exhilarating as level 9, and quite honestly a waste of time. he'd thrown his violin against the wall the other day in frustration mid rant, and broken it into pieces. he read about every book, looked through all of the closets and drawers- even the ones he was told to keep out of- and searched the basement, all in all providing little to no entertainment.

This is how the worlds only consulting detective came to be laying upside down on the chair in the library pondering way at useless thoughts that floated into his mind.

"what are you doing! you will ruin the furniture!" he had not even heard his brother come in,

lazily opening his eyes he mumbled

"board…"

"what? speak up, mummy told you never to mumble its a terrible habit brother mine." this time he rolled from his position, jumping up he yelled

"BOARD! I NEED SOMTHING TO DO!"

"O honestly, stop being such a drama queen. I let you drop that "gift" off at that mousy things house."

"her name is MOLLY, Mycroft honestly its not that complicated. When can i return to real life, I'm tired of laying about with nothing to do, I NEED a case."

"You just finished dismembering the network three weeks ago, give it some time brother, if you leave too soon you could put your friends in danger." He knew his brother was right, he could not risk the life of his friends, but he could not sit around for much longer.

"I talked to Gavin the other day and he said as far as he knows, there's no suspicious activity, in fact London seems quite calm." It was greg who helped him fake his "death". at first he wanted to involve molly, but his worse fears were realized when molly became a target because of him.

"Yes, well Greg is not the British government, and their fore he does not know everything." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"While that may be true Mycroft, Greg has been keeping an eye on them for me, and he has assured me that its safe to return. I need to see john and…..and molly."

"Honestly sherlock, caring is a weakness, you should know that."

"I don't care-"

"no you love, and its a disgusting."

"I DON'T LOVE ANYONE!"

"Yes, im sure you don't brother mine, if you'll excuse me i have a meeting." Sherlock was enraged "Oh and please don't pester the maids or break anything valuable please." with that Mycroft turned and left the room.

Sherlock huffed and threw himself back onto the chair, what did Mycroft know about how he felt. Love was a ridiculous emotion that he would never have, It represented weakness and would cause nothing but problems. closing his eyes Sherlock escaped into his mind palace and stood in front of the door that had recently appeared. He knew not what was inside-for he had yet to open it- yet he felt a slight tremor climb its way through him as he stared at the mahogany door. slowly he reached a timid hand out grasping the brass knob tightly, turning it, he pushed his way inside. What he saw surprised him very little, he knew sooner or later it would happen.

"Of course...I should have known."


	3. better than a rose

The rain fell down the windows masking the light from the road into bleary splotches across the carpet. The rose lay in a vase upon her nightstand, and Molly watched the light fell across the petal in unpredictable patterns.

He was alive, the rose was all she had of her consulting detective, and yet it seemed enough. She no longer felt that overwhelming sadness that accompanied any thought or mention of Sherlock, rather she felt an immense amount of relief in the idea of him returning to her.

However she could not shake the thought that perhaps he had only said those things because he thought he was going to die.

Molly huffed and flipped onto her back, pulling the covers closer, and stared at the ceiling. Perhaps he won't come back. Perhaps the rose was his last gift to her and she will never see him again. Maybe... Maybe he really was dead.

A slight knock on her front door broke her from her trance. Sitting up, Molly looked upon the clock.

The clock flashed the time, 12:04. "Who would come by at this time of night?" Gingerly, Molly got off her bed and crept towards the kitchen. Looking out the windows next to the door, Molly could make out the shape of a man standing in the rain.

He had warned her they might come after her. Feeling for the wall behind her, Molly quietly worked her way back towards the kitchen. He had warned her. And she had forgotten. But it had been months– months since his 'death'... She would have never thought...

Molly grabbed a pan from the rack above her head and made her way to the door. Swallowing her fear, Molly tiptoed back towards the door. The slight knock came again, making Molly jump and almost drop the pan she held clenched in her hand.

Carefully, raising the pan high, Molly looked through the peep hole in the door and nearly dropped dead.

There's NO way...It...It can't be...

Hastily, Molly dropped the pan and threw open the door, making her guest jump in surprise.

Before her, stood the world's only consulting detective, dripping wet. He looked down at her with pleading eyes, crying out in desperation. Gingerly, Molly lifted a hand and slowly as if approaching a wild animal brought it towards his cheek.

"Sh..sh..Sherlock?" When her hand made contact she let out a gasp of air and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he brought his hands to circle around her waist. Sighing softly, Molly tried to memorize this moment. Because she didn't know how many more of these moments she would get.u

"I am truly sorry Molly Hooper."

Molly pulled herself out of the hug, decisively grabbing his hand she pulled him inside out of the rain. Kicking the pan out of the way, Molly pulled the consulting detective towards the kitchen.

He sure as hell better be more than sorry..

"Why...Why did you do it?" Tears were forming in Molly's eyes from an odd mixture of relief or anger.

Sherlock furrowed his brow, his clear eyes searching the young pathologists face. He ran his hand through his hair and looked away at her.

"I am not capable of emotions Molly, nor am I any good with communication. I am not warm nor am I caring at times–"

Molly found herself searching her mind for words, any words. However, she was unable to make anything more than a small squeak.

Sherlock cleared his throat, moving forward in his speech. "What I'm trying to say, but for some indescribable reason I am unable to put forth is that, I am a hard man to deal with, but I am a good man, who...who cares a great deal for you an-"

Molly couldn't help the small gasp that escaped, but she quickly pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes at her late-night guest. "Dn't say those things if you don't mean them Sherlock, whatever it is you need just ask me." Molly warned, her voice edging onto exhaustion. She was tired of his games, sure she loved him... but toying with her emotions was unjust.

"No! No! You don't understand…..ugh." He put his hand on his forehead in frustration. "I'm not good with these kind of things, in truth I have nothing to go by, for I thought something like this would never happen, however I have proved this theory wrong and am now in a situation of uncharted territory-"

"Sherlock!" He looked at her with wide eyes. "Stop rambling, just tell me what you need."

He shook his head in defeat. "You Molly Hooper, always you." Molly was shocked, honestly she didn't know what to say, luckily he continued. "Over the past months I have grown to miss our conversations, and our rows. truthful I have come to miss you, and I think that perhaps I might...well I kinda know that I….R... Respect you."

Well. That was anticlimactic. Still, respect was better than nothing, and honestly it had left her shocked.

They were quiet for a moment, before Sherlock spoke up again. "I was pondering if perhaps...perhaps you might want to give us a go?"

"You...you mean like...like you want me to be your girlfriend?" Molly stuttered, her heart pounding painfully inside her chest.

"I know that this is not how traditional relationships go, however we have known each other for quite some time and.. and I believe that we can bypass all of that nonsense."

Biting her lip Molly felt something she hadn't quite expected– reservation. How long had she waited our or this very moment? How many times had she replayed the kiss and touched her lips and fantasizes about a life with Sherlock? She loved him... But this was so sudden.

But she looked into his eyes. They were his eyes... But something was different, something looked more– grounded. He was hopeful, and he was reading her desperately.

So, slowly, she nodded.

"Fantastic-" But he was cut off by Molly, who kissed him until he was breathless.

Now, she had something better than a rose.


End file.
